The Queensland Racing Wagering Scandal Unfolds Further as Indisputable Evidence Emerges Revealing the Direct Involvement of the BRC Boss and the Former Head of Racing Queensland in the Bet Fairy – UBET Kickback Commission Scam – The Integrity of Racing is Compromised Completely – Its Time For the Authorities to Act

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Well sportsfans, any bullsh*t that Whimpey Dave or Slippery Sam might have planned to try and spin about Bet Fairy being their wives company and then playing the discrimination wild card has been turned into dust.

How dumb are this dynamic duo?

Dumb and dumber and three times f*cking dumber again. They can’t even pull a simple rort without stuffing it up. What a pair of morons.

Note to self punters:

If you intend to try to conceal your involvement in a company by putting it in your wife’s name and using her as a front for your crooked schemes, make sure you put the whole bloody lot in her name, not just part of it hey? If you don’t then you just look stupid when you get caught out.

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Further note to self punters:

Don’t go running around racecourses like Slippery Sam has been telling folk that your Bet Fairy phone app is a nothing shelf company that makes no money when there is public evidence available that you have spent over $4000 in registrartion fees alone registering the international patents on the app in the past 12 months, and God knows how many thousands or tens of thousands on legal fees to prepare and lodge the detailed patent documents. You look stupid when you get caught out there too.

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And a note to BRC Director Dave Dawson:

You’re a top shelf scientist mate, but when it comes to cooking crooks over fires you’re a rank amateur who doesn’t know sh*t from clay. It’s horses for courses old son and you should keep your trap shut and read the Geebung Polo Club by Banjo instead of running around Doomben telling anyone who’ll listen that you and your rort pulling mates have outstayed Archie Butterfly, because you just look stupid too.

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The documents I have published on this page are reproduced from the public register of the United Nations managed World International Patent Organisation, and are trademarks, copyrights and patents for the Wagering and Lottery systems used in the Bet Fairy smart phone application.

Slippery Sam and Whimpey Dave’s names are all over them.

Look at the dates as well. They were lodged at the same time that Whimpey was managing a joint venture arrangement with the Tatts Group to run the Doomben and Eagle Farm totes, and the same as Adams was the senior executive at Racing Queensland in charge of negotiating and managing the wagering agreements with Tatts.

And of course as well all now know every single dollar that is wagered through Bet Fairy goes straight into the Ubet pools, and commissions are kicked back directly to the Whimpey, Adams, and Ball (of KPMG) families.

These people have been trusted to run our beloved Sport of Kings but they have each abused that trust. The decisions they have made haven’t been about what’s best for racing; they’ve been about what’s best for themselves, and what will earn them the largest red hot quid.

Some of you are friends with these people and perhaps think I’m being a bit hard.

Let me ask you this – do friends steal from their mates?

No, they don’t.

So are they really good blokes and mates?

No they aren’t. They’re just common garden conmen and thieves.

Whimpey and Ball should be sacked right now, and all three of these bludgers should be smashed with charges and prosecuted to the full letter of the law.

Lock them up and throw away the bloody keys.

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The Scandal of the Century – How the Queensland Police Service and the Crime and Corruption Commission Have Failed to Investigate Allegations Made by the State’s Most Prolific Pedophile That His Wave of Criminal Child Rapes Were Concealed and Protected by the Assistant Commissioner of the Queensland Police

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Former Assistant Commissioner of Police Gregory Lance Early, pictured with the current QPS Commissioner Ian Stewart

The documents published below are the transcripts of covert recordings made in 1996 of a series of meetings between the pedophile Kevin Lynch and an 18-year-old former student at St Paul’s School that he had sexually abused when the boy was 14 and had visited his counselling office at the school.

The young man had made a complaint to police about Lynch’s sexual assaults on him as a minor, and had agreed to arrange to visit Lynch on the premise of being interested in continuing their ‘relationship’ and wear a police wire to record the discussions.

Lynch was totally unaware that the young man was wired for sound, and spoke openly to him about a range of subjects. He also attempted to entice the teenager to take his clothes off and enter the shower so that he could abuse him once more.

Pedophilia is a sickness of the soul and body and mind that can never be cured, so you would expect that of Lynch.

It’s what else he told the young man that is the real story.

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Kevin Lynch tells his victim that he is personally connected with the Assistant Commissioner of Police, and that he conspired with the second highest policeman in the state to pervert the course of justice by ‘having a word to the Magistrate’ before criminal cases involving one of his ‘boys’.

It’s London to a Brick that a close examination of the court records would find that the Assistant Commissioner had arranged for charges to be dropped or reduced, police statements of facts to have been altered, criminal records to have been concealed or detailed, and police prosecution submissions on penalty to have been reduced to non-custodial sentences without convictions recorded.

The Assistant Commissioner of Police that the mass-scale pedophile is talking about is Gregory Lance Early, his long time neighbor and family friend. Lynch and Early were closely involved personally, and documentary evidence shows that Lynch also had a close relationship with Early’s son Cameron, and used to meet him or pick him up from an address at Sandgate.

Early, who would later sell his house to Lynch’s wife in a highly questionable transaction, was the personal assistant and right hand man of corrupt Queensland Police Commissioner Terry Lewis throughout that man’s long career as the state’s number one uniformed criminal. It is commonly believed by those in the know that Early – an expert stenographer, photographer and archivist – kept and maintained the ‘dirt files’ on high profile homosexuals, drug users, pederasts and pedophiles in the legal, judicial, business and political worlds.

Early was controversially promoted to the role of Assistant Commissioner in 1993 after taking legal action to overcome the vehement objections to his promotion lodged by former Fitzgerald Inquiry Special Prosecutor Doug Drummond, QC, and former Criminal Justice Commission chairman Sir Max Bingham.

His appointment was strongly supported by then Police Commissioner and later Racing Commissioner Jim O’Sullivan, which may explain a few things as this story plays out.

 

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Lynch, a 64 year old at the time divorced and purportedly heterosexual man, is staying the night at the flat of a 24 year old former victim of his at the Brisbane Grammar School. The man and his friend are methamphetamine injecting drug addicts who have been out at a party all night shooting up while Lynch waits in their flat.

Why Lynch is there in the drug den is not explained, but it is safe to assume that the men may have promised to bring a young boy addicted to drugs and desperate for a hit back to the pedophile for paid sex. Instead though the man and his friends return and take turns anally raping their long-time abuser in revenge for what he had done to them as young children. Many would call it poetic justice.

Lynch picked up the phone and called his friend Greg Early, the Assistant Commissioner of Queensland Police.

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Lynch asks Early to organise a fake arrest of his arrest of his rapists, haul them into a police station and give them a real going over.

He implores Early not to make any record of the arrest or interview on police computers or files, and not to use the recording equipment in the station that has been a mandatory requirement for all interviews conducted of suspects since the Fitzgerald reforms were enacted in law and implemented across the police force.

Early agrees to this gross breach of the law and and complies. His actions in conspiring to pervert the course of justice on behalf of his friend that he knows is a pedophile are unthinkable, and the commission of a most serious crime.

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Lynch, blindly oblivious to the fact that the young victim from St Paul’s that he is talking to at 8.30pm in his flat is wearing a police wire, proceeds to explain how his friend Assistant Commissioner Early arranged for the false arrest and interrogation of men who raped him.

He tells the young man that the whole thing was staged by police, and that there have been no records whatsoever made of the arrest and interview, but that police have left the rapist with the clear impression that he will be face charges over the matter.

Lynch – who is only a year away from retirement, and knows he will lose his superannuation and long-service leave benefits if he is summarily dismissed from his teaching position – then describes how he attended his doctors to arrange for HIV testing following the rape, how the appointment was noted on his medical records as being related to the symptoms of flu, and how he told the doctor about his rape and explained why it was not to be recorded on his file and that there was to be no mention of police.

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All of these admissions made by Lynch were captured on the covert police recording made by the brave young man who had the courage to go alone to his abuser’s home wearing the police wire.

The recordings were the substantive evidence that formed the basis for Lynch’s 1999 arrest just weeks later, but were never played in court because Lynch took his life – or at least that’s what we are told – just hours after his police made the highly curious decision to immediately release the pedophile from custody on his own recognisance, and without any requirement to appear before a magistrate and apply for bail, after formally charging the school counselor with multiple counts of serious child-sex offences.

The recordings resurfaced 16 years later during Case Study 34 of the Royal Commission into Institutional Responses to Child Sexual Abuse, and were formally entered into evidence. The full transcripts of the recordings can be found on the Royal Commission’s website by clicking here.

 

It is difficult to imagine many more serious instances of police corruption that the overt protection of a serial pedophile, the perversion of justice, interference with criminal court cases, the effect of false arrests and police interviews, the deliberate concealment of records, and the wholesale breach of police procedures and the laws of Queensland involved in each.

If the assertions that Lynch made to the young man were proven to be true and the police officers involved convicted of any of the myriad of charges that may be laid against them, they would without question be sentenced to long terms of imprisonment for their unthinkable crimes.

It goes without saying that the serious claims about corrupt conduct made by the unwitting Lynch in 1996 about his friend Early, one of the State’s most senior police officers, should have been referred for immediate investigation.

They were not.

In fact there has never been any investigation whatsoever conducted into the claims of wholesale police corruption, protection and perversions of justice that Lynch spoke of in such detail on the police recorded tapes.

It is an absolute disgrace. A scandal of the highest order.\

I know for a fact that a number of very senior officers of the CCC read this website daily, so the time for plausible deniability about the prima facie evidence that senior police protected Queensland’s most prolific and life-destroying pedophiles has ended.

Now it’s time for action.

If the Queensland public is to have any confidence whatsoever in the QPS or the CCC these claims must be investigated as a matter of urgency.

Over to you Mr MacSporran.

The ball’s now in your court.

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The Prison Comptroller, The Assistant Commissioner of Police, the Perverted Pedophile and a Murdered Pub Manager Named Jack – Some Truths Are Just So Much Stranger Than Fiction

What are the odds of one of Queensland’s greatest serial child molesters living next door for decades to an Assistant Commissioner of Queensland Police in a sleepy suburban back street?

What are the odds of the next door neighbor not being the Assistant Commissioner of police that the recidivist pedophile was caught on a wire tap during a police sting boasting about being his protector, and the bloke who can arrange for prosecutions to be fixed by hooking the police prosecutions brief?

What are the odds of the senior public servant in charge of Queensland Prisons living just down the road?

What are the odds of the trio living just a few hundred meters from the site of one of Queensland’s most baffling murders, a motiveless crime for which many claim the wrong man was convicted?

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What about the odds of the real murderer being suspected to be a corrupt police officer named Glen Hallahan, a member of the infamous Rat Pack who had a long association with the Assistant Commissioner living next door to the pedophile, and just down the road from the prison chief?

Or the odds that only parkland separates their homes and the murder site, and that it is simply an easy hop, skip and jump down a pathway and across a small creek to get to the spot from which the gunman who pulled the trigger in the murder was hiding when he performed the evil deed, and then disappeared without a trace into the misty morning?

You could dead set write your own ticket and make up any price you wish couldn’t you?

In fact, you would scarcely believe that such an amazing coincidence could possibly be true, and you’d be saying out loud to your hubby ‘Archie’s making this up as he goes’.

But it is. And I’m not.

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Robert Keith Hamburger is better known to one and all as Keith.

Between 1988 and 1997 he was the Director-General of Queensland’s Department of Corrective Services. In other words, he ran all of the prisons in the Sunshine State.

For decades Keith and his missus Janeen lived at number 21 Conifer Street.

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Gregory Lance Early was for 11 years the personal assistant to deeply corrupt Queensland Police Commissioner and later convict Terry Lewis.

Prior to that he had been the assistant to Commissioner Frank Bischof, the man who set up the Juvenile Aid Bureau, staffed by some officers who at the Commissioner’s instigation – and using the threat of charges, future career-destroying convictions, and potential incarceration against the young people sent to the bureau by headmasters such as Brisbane Grammar’s Max Howell – supplied young boys and girls to those sickos in our society who have a taste for sex with innocent youths.

The clientele almost certainly included the Commissioner himself.

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In 1994, after acting in the role for nearly 2 years, Early became Assistant Commissioner of the Qld Police Force. As you can see above, he had to survive a court challenge from the head of the CJC and the Fitzgerald Inquiry Special prosecutor – who believed him to be corrupt – in order to assume the role, which he held in various regions until his retirement from the force in January 1999, just over a year after his long-time neighbor Lynch committed suicide after being charged with multiple child-sex offenses.

Greg Early is today the head of the Retired Police Association, and remains a figure of influence within the Queensland Police Service.

He and his wife Rubena lived for decades at number 44 Conifer Street.

Rubena Early passed away last year. Her funeral was held in the church directly opposite once-jailed pedophile policeman David ‘Constable Dave’ Moore’s Video to DVD Copy Centre, where he was arrested a few years ago for possessing a vile child pornography film featuring footage of young boys, likely from St Paul’s, cavorting naked in the water, spliced with footage of adult men masturbating.

It is not known whether Moore, who despite his raft of previous convictions inexplicably received just a slap on the wrist with a wet bus ticket when he plead guilty to the child porn charge, popped across the road to pay his respects.

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Kevin John Lynch was of course simply a c*nt.

A lifelong pervert, a pedophile who preyed upon the troubled students that he was paid to counsel and protect.

He and his wife Margot lived for decades at number 42 Conifer Street.

He is presently resident in Hell. They tell me it’s pretty warm there.

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A conifer, also known as Pinophyta, is a gymnosperm, cone bearing, woody plant with secondary growth.

I’m sure that you are not surprised.

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Ugly is as Ugly Does – The Pro-Pedophile Freak Show Comes to Town

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These two woman pictured above are Alicia Worrall (right), the victim-hater who publicly ridiculed and taunted me about my child abuse and called me an attention seeking dog for talking about it, and her daughter ‘Sioux’ Fuller (centre) a freak who thought that her mother vilifying child rape victims was funny.

They’re a good looking pair aren’t they?\

Exemplars of the best bred stock in the whole human race I reckon. Ugly inside, ugly outside. Witches of Eastwick eat your heart out.

It only gets better too.

Siouxie Souxie, you poor bugger you. No wonder you hate the bloody world.

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The rest of family goes alright too don’t they.

Is that what Tiger was left with when his access to young boys dried up was it?

Of course you know the little weak germ used to beat the sh*t out of us until we were old enough to fight back don’t you? Punch the living crap out of little kids the priest would, and do it with a smile.

He must have bashed your family too did he?

It shows.

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The dragon’s quite apt isn’t it?

is that the family crest or something?

Maggie my missus wants to know what’s in your little witches bag of tricks.

She reckons it’s a fart cushion.

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I just reckon you’re all f*cking mad.

Hate to break the news to you pedophile fans, but the the medieval times weren’t really that flash, and aren’t much worth celebrating.

I guess you’re just attracted to the plague.

It likes you too Tigress.

Rooaarrr!

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The Damon Runyon Revival Series – Race 4 – Butch Minds the Baby

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One evening along about seven o’clock I am sitting in Mindy’s restaurant putting on the gefillte fish, which is a dish I am very fond of, when in come three parties from Brooklyn wearing caps as follows: Harry the Horse, Little Isadore, and Spanish John.

Now these parties are not such parties as I will care to have much truck with, because I often hear rumours about them that are very discreditable, even if the rumours are not true. In fact, I hear that many citizens of Brooklyn will be very glad indeed to see Harry the Horse, Little Isadore and Spanish John move away from there, as they are always doing something that is considered a knock to the community, such as robbing people, or maybe shooting or stabbing them, and throwing pineapples, and carrying on generally.

I am really much surprised to see these parties on Broadway, as it is well known that the Broadway coppers just naturally love to shove such parties around, but there they are in Mindy’s, and there I am, so of course I give them a very large hello, as I never wish to seem inhospitable, even to Brooklyn parties. Right away they come over to my table and sit down, and Little Isadore reaches out and spears himself a big hunk of my gefillte fish with his fingers, but I overlook this, as I am using the only knife on the table.

Then they all sit there looking at me without saying anything, and the way they look at me makes me very nervous indeed. Finally I figure that maybe they are a little embarrassed being in a high-class spot such as Mindy’s, with legitimate people around and about, so I say to them, very polite:

‘It is a nice night.’

‘What is nice about it?’ asks Harry the Horse, who is a thin man with a sharp face and sharp eyes.

Well, now that it is put up to me in this way, I can see there is nothing so nice about the night, at that, so I try to think of something else jolly to say, while Little Isadore keeps spearing at my gefillte fish with his fingers, and Spanish John nabs one of my potatoes.

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A Little Bird Told Me That the Corrupt Activities of a Couple of Senior Current and Former Racing Officials Are About Be Put Under the Microscope By the CCC – I Guess We’ll See, See, See Won’t We?

A little bird landed flew through the window of the Geebung Polo Club this morning, landed on my shoulder and whispered in my ear.

“Hey Archie, Ross Barnett from the Racing Integrity Commission has referred the allegations you’ve raised about Slippery Sam Adamns and Whimpey Dave to the Queensland Crime and Corruption Commission” the bird whispered.

“The CCC? I See See See” I replied.

The little bird flew away, saying as it left that it was off to sh*t on a hearse at Red Hill.

I wonder if Alan “The Oarsman” MacSporran will sh*t all over the investigation into these extremely serious allegations of corruption?

I guess we’ll see, see, see won’t we sportsfans?

Dear Catholic Church – Please Help Me – One of Your Employees is Publicly Calling Me a Dog For Speaking Out Against Child Abuse and I Want it To Stop – Your Church Cares About Child Abuse Victims Doesn’t It? – Doesn’t It? – Doesn’t It …………..

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Karyn Kelly (above) Media Chief at Centacare, mother, Catholic and person who cares so much about child abuse victims that she fails to act to stop them being vilified and called dogs by her organisation’s employees. But Centacare cares (below) – just ask them!

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On 8 September 2017 I publish the article below after learning that an Anglican priest named Thomas Treherne, who was involved up to his neck in the cover up of the child sex abuse crimes perpetrated against me between the ages of 12 and 14.

Note that in the 4th paragraph I describe Treherne as a dog, because in my view and experience all child abusers are.

https://itsnotnormalisit.com/2017/09/08/shed-no-tears-for-evil-men-for-they-cried-no-rivers-for-you-throw-this-dead-priests-maggot-riddled-carcass-is-a-sewer-and-let-him-swim-forever-in-his-own-fetid-sht/

On 10 September your Centacare employee Alicia Worrall published the post below on her Facebook page, but I do not become aware of the publication until the 11th and 12th of September when a number of readers of Its Not Normal contact me to alert me to its presence.

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The previous day – 9 September – Worrall has published the post below which clearly shows that she is involved in the organisation of, or is personally organising, Treherne’s funeral.

That she is doing so is not the issue. It’s a free world, and if burying child sex offenders who have never apologised or explicitly acknowledged wrongdoing in the 34 years between the cover up and their death is Worrall’s thing, then she can go for her life.

I find it horribly offensive, but it’s neither a workplace issue or a crime, unless of course it was posted during work time and then its horribly improper and a flagrant misuse of both church and government funds.

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​I note with some distaste that you were quick to jump to the defence of your employee without even knowing the facts, and note also that this is a time-honored and disgusting practice that puts the interests of accused child sex crime offenders or accessories before the interests of victims who have raised the matters, a practice that has been roundly and quite rightly widely condemned by the Royal Commission.

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Bash the Victim, Bless the Ped – Everything You Ever Needed to Know About Why Child Abuse Will Never End in One Simple Little Thin Blue Lined Tale

The gutless, uncaring grub posing as a priest who could have stopped my child abuse and that of 100’s of other boys subsequently abused at St Paul’s School in the 1980’s and 90’s my sinister mass-rapist Kevin Lynch is being buried at midday today at the St Barnabas Anglican Church at Red Hill, then institution that he presided over until his recent death.

Thomas ‘Father Tom’ Treherne was his name, and he was the school priest and chaplain at St Paul’s that I reported my abuse to when I was a little, skinny, scared, confused kid too afraid to tell my parents or friends about the crimes that were being committed against me and looking to the man I had been taught was a representative of Christ on earth to save me from a living hell.

I didn’t get any help from Treherne. I was just threatened, cajoled, punished, victimised and thrown back into the burning fire, as like Pilate the Priest washed his hands, turned his back and walked away.

It all call could have been stopped. Hundreds of kids could have escaped Lynch’s evil claws and lived their lives unsullied by the madness of his sexual perversion, and no doubt 12 dead boys who took their own lives because they couldn’t stand the pain and the nightmares would still be alive today.

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Since I first wrote about Treherne’s death I have been subject to abuse and vilification by members of the so called church, and the woman who has organised the faux-priest’s funeral has publicly taunted me and called me a dog on social media for daring to suggest that her collar-wearing dead criminal of a friend was a bad man not one one who was pure and good.

This woman works for the Catholic Church, and has been accessing the social media page on which she has been denigrating me from her workplace. I complained to the church about the abuse, taking the issue to the highest levels as I sought the removal of the ‘dog’ post that I explained was causing my family and me a great deal of distress and grief.

“We’ll get back to you: the CEO of Centacare told me.

He didn’t tell me that it would be the police who would be bringing the message in reply; I guess it was just an oversight, just like that church’s own failure to keep the children of its flock safe for all those years was.

This morning a Sergeant and a Constable of Queensland Police came to my door. I wasn’t there – I was caring for my terminally ill father over at his place – so my brother answered the door and spoke to the officers.

The reason for their visit was that someone – I assume from one or both of the Anglican or Catholic churches – had made a complaint to police alleging that I intended to disrupt Thomas Treherne’s funeral.

The police came to my home to make sure that I didn’t.

Me – a man with no criminal convictions who has never been in trouble with the law – gets a f*cking visit from uniformed police who pull up in front of my house in a marked blue and white car with a flashing light on top for all the neighbors to see.

Me – a victim of awful abuse by sick f*ckers who were supposed to be protecting me – gets shamed in front of my mother’s friends and my family.

Me – the innocent one here – I was a f*cking little kid! – has the police harass him and warn him not to go near my former school priest’s funeral.

There’s a police guard on the St Barnabas church doors as we speak.

The maggot riddled corpse of the Man of God who knew kids were being sexually abused and abandoned them to their terrible fate is about to be consecrated, in secret and 3 weeks after he died.

After the rites are concluded the police will no doubt lead the funeral cortege all the way to the cemetery where the hypocrites of the Anglican Church will bury the f*cker in so-called holy ground.

The pedophile ring is protected all the way to the f*cking grave.

And all the while, the doomed youth are left alone to slowly die.

As for the Child Abuse Royal Commission?

Why did we f*cking bother?

What passing-bells for these who die as cattle? 
      — Only the monstrous anger of the guns. 
      Only the stuttering rifles’ rapid rattle 
Can patter out their hasty orisons. 
No mockeries now for them; no prayers nor bells; 
      Nor any voice of mourning save the choirs,— 
The shrill, demented choirs of wailing shells; 
      And bugles calling for them from sad shires. 
What candles may be held to speed them all? 
      Not in the hands of boys, but in their eyes 
Shall shine the holy glimmers of goodbyes. 
      The pallor of girls’ brows shall be their pall; 
Their flowers the tenderness of patient minds, 
And each slow dusk a drawing-down of blinds.

The Convicted Cop Killer in the Brisbane Casino Consortium (First Published March 2015)

This is the story of how a bloke who drove drunkenly into a police officer, flipped him off his bonnet and dragged him along a deserted city street at high speed until he was dead, and then fled, was found by the State of Queensland to be a fit and proper person to hold the new Brisbane casino licence. As hard as it is to believe this is all a true story, backed by documentary evidence, news reports of the time and court records. It’s a bloody disgrace, and so are the mainstream media that have refused to report on the issue.

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There are three companies in the Destination Brisbane Consortium, which is going head to head with Jimmy Packer’s Crown Resorts for the Heavy-Weight Championship of Brisbane. The prize is a beauty – a gazillion dollars worth of Brisbane’s best riverside CBD real estate to redevelop and a licence to print money (also known as the 2nd Brisbane Casino licence), and the competition’s fierce, as you’d expect.

One of these 3 companies is a Cayman Islands registered, Hong Kong based outfit called the Far East Consortium International Limited. It’s a public company, listed on the Honkers Stock Exchange, but a family named Chiu own most of the shares and controls the running of the joint.

The patriarch of the outfit is a man named Deacon Chiu, the founder and long time Chairman until he handed the reins over to his eldest son David Chiu. I’ll tell you more about Deacon and David down the track – they are people whose business record and associations with criminals demand that they are forever disbarred from doing business in Queensland – but today I want to focus on Deacon Chiu’s younger son Dennis, who is 4 years junior to his brother David.

Dennis story is pretty interesting, because he’s a police killer, and you don’t meet too many of those outside Supermax, do you? In fact the last place you’d expect to meet a man who did hard time for the manslaughter of a police officer is on the board of a company seeking a casino licence, isn’t it?

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But here we are in 2015 and Dennis Chiu, a man convicted of killing a police officer in Hong Kong, is knocking on Queensland’s door bidding for a casino licence. Twenty years ago it was a prison cell door he was knocking on, from the inside.

This is Dennis Chiu’s sordid story, and it is all on the public record. Simply follow the links in the story and you will be taken to the court records and news reports from the time. It is this man in each of these documents, and it is this man who killed an innocent police officer – there can be absolutely no doubt.

On the night of 13 July, 1983 Dennis decided to decided to go out drinking, just as a number of 25 year olds like to do on a Wednesday night. Usually they are students; or shift workers; or bludgers on the dole. But not Dennis Chiu, he was a billionaire’s son, and seemed to think that the usual rules of society didn’t apply to him.

This man, who was later portrayed as a young man who made a mistake – but who was actually older than James Dean, John Keats and Joan of Arc at the time – was seen drinking all night at clubs and bars in the company of friends. In the early hours of the next morning he stumbled out of a bar and into his car, and headed off for home.

It is of course illegal to drink heavily and drive, and what happened next is exactly why, because Dennis Chiu was in the coming minutes about to take an innocent life. And not just any life, but that of a young police constable who was only awake at that early hour because he was out doing his job, keeping the community safe from criminals like Dennis Chiu. And lost his life as a result, leaving a grieving widow and young children behind.

All due to Dennis Chiu’s absolute indifference to the law and the standards of human decency.

The Police Constable’s name was Cheng Man-Fai, and he was minding his own business on the 14th of July 1983, dismantling a police roadblock, when Dennis Chiu driving his late-model Volvo flew around a turn at high-speed and smashed directly into Constable Cheng. The officer was flung skyward by the impact of the collision, and somersaulted three feet into the air before landing chest first on the bonnet of the Volvo.

We’ll never know exactly how fast Dennis Chiu was driving when he careened into the unfortunate Officer, nor how drunk he actually was, because of what happened next.

At this point Dennis Chiu had not killed Constable Cheng, although he had clearly injured him very badly. A law-abiding person, no matter how drunk, would have stopped his car, got out and attempted to save the Officer’s life. He was required to both by law, and by any decent standards of humanity.

But not rich kid Dennis Chiu. No, he simply took off.

Unfortunately so too did Constable Cheng, who had become tangled up in the car’s damaged chassis as he rolled off the boot. So when Dennis Chiu put the pedal to the metal and fled from the scene, he was dragging the Constable’s broken but breathing body along the road for some considerable distance, which caused Cheng Man-Fai to suffer irreversible brain damage and, shortly after, death.

When he realised what he had done Dennis Chiu did not attend the local police station and hand himself in. He didn’t do so the next day when he had sobered up either, but rather chose to attempt to conceal his crime and leave the Constable’s grieving family forlorn.

But police investigators, who are always determined to track down the culprit in unlawful killings, become even more determined when the victim is one of their own, and rightly so. And they soon fingered Dennis for the crime, and arrested him for the Police Officer’s killing.

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Dennis Chiu at the time of his arrest by Hong Kong Police

When he fronted court on the charge Dennis Chiu pleaded not guilty, as all cop killing dogs do. Rather than admit his actions, take responsibility and show remorse, Chiu chose instead to prolong and increase the Officer’s family’s pain by putting them through the ordeal of a trial, in which he put up an unbelievable defence that he didn’t feel the impact of the crash,; did not see the soon to be deceased Constable Cheng staring at him through the windscreen from a foot away when he landed on the boot; and did not notice that he was dragging Constable Chen’s body with him when he fled from the scene.

Predictably the jury rejected his defence, and Dennis was convicted of the crime of manslaughter. The Judge sentenced him to four years imprisonment.

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If the sentence seems ridiculously light, well that’s because is it was. But you have to remember that Dennis Chiu’s father was, and is, one of the richest men in Hong Kong, and it’s the type of town where bullshit walks and money talks. And Dennis Chiu, who was the Chief Executive of his family’s company Asia Television was a powerful man in Kowloon himself.

In other circumstances he may well have got off with a suspended sentence, but even in Hong Kong you can’t kill Police Officers and not go to jail, no matter how much money or influence your family may have.

So Dennis went off to his cell, reappearing only once over the next couple of years for the hearing of his appeal – dismissed on all counts – before emerging back into the light of day at the conclusion of his sentence.

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He of course ran straight back into his rich father’s arms, was slipped straight back into a Director’s role in the family business, and now here he is all these years later, turning up in Queensland as a member of the consortium chasing the Brisbane Casino Licence.

A police killer and ex-convict potentially in charge of the roulette wheel at Queen’s Wharf Casino. And not a single politician has said a word to stop it.

What an absolute disgrace.

Editor’s Note: The consortium headed by Dennis Chiu has since been awarded the Queensland Government contract to construct the new Casino at Queen’s Wharf